FUNERAL BLUES

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves;
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Written by W.H. Auden
First published as “Song IX” from ‘Twelve Songs’ (1936)

MY ANSWER TO “FUNERAL BLUES”
(Today is March 30, 2002, and tomorrow is Easter)

Tomorrow is Easter,
The empty tomb I choose,
For Christ is alive,
No time for funeral blues!
Let the clocks tick,
Plug in the phone;
Jesus has promised
To prepare me a home!
No time for coffins;
Death cannot stand
For Jesus has risen
To that “better land”
Jesus is my North and my South,
And he puts praises in my mouth;
He is my East and my West,
Of all on Earth, I am blest!
Don’t pack up the moon,
Nor dismantle the sun,
For He is the Light
And hope for everyone!
No, there are no funeral blues,
Unless you vainly choose,
Not to be a winner,
And in doing so, you lose!
Jesus is The Son of God,
And The Son of Man;
So, if you trust in Him
You will forever stand!

©Copyright March 30, 2002 by C. Douglas Caffey

Author’s Note: I have known HIM for 63 years